After Trenzalore
by Jorekbyrnison
Summary: The Doctor and Clara spend time together to recover from Trenzalore, and in the process grows closer than they were expecting. And when the dynamic duo take a trip to a wonderful world which is eternally winter, their relationship will be taken to a completely new level.
1. Chapter 1

It started after Trenzalore. The walls they had so carefully erected and enjoyed dancing around for months had now crumbled to the ground, and in their absence had grown a closer relationship than either of them had experienced before. Yet it felt good; it felt natural.

The two participants in this newfound closeness are currently curled up on Clara's bed, facing each other, and talking. After Trenzalore, Clara had decided that she wasn't ready to go back to the Maitlands, and the Doctor had decided that they sure as hell weren't ready to travel the universe looking for adventure, so this is how they spend their days now: talking, while the TARDIS lingers in the vortex or drifts in empty space. They talked about all the past lifetimes where they had unknowingly encountered one another, shared stories and filled in the gaps in each other's memory. Clara's memories were like memories from a dream; difficult to remember, but always there if you knew what to look for. Not all that different to the Doctor's memories from past regenerations, really. And so they helped each other rediscover the past, talking into the night every day.

This particular evening, as the long hours of the evening grows into the small hours of the night, their conversation becomes quieter and, as most conversations occurring when the lights are dimmed and the rest of the world is only notable for its absence, turns more personal. Feelings one would be afraid to admit to in the light of day, such as fear and loneliness, are slowly owed up to and shared, and perhaps mirrored in each other. It could be hypothesized that conversations such as these are the only foundation upon which one may build a true friendship. The only time we can truly know ourselves, and therefore the only time we can show ourselves to others. For these two individuals in particular, though, this is the first time they have had such an opportunity without the vast vistas of secrets and doubt separating them. Where he before had been afraid to trust, he now wishes to share himself, and divulge for her his past. Where she before had wanted to impress, she now wants to let him see her for what she is: herself. And so they talk.

The clocks don't tick in the vortex, but we eventually find our two intrepid travellers asleep on the exact bed where they have spent their evening. She has turned on to her other side, facing the wall. He has fallen asleep still wearing his suit. About halfway through what would anywhere else be considered a good night's sleep, he wakes with a start, bolting upright and instinctively reaching out for his companion. She remains fast asleep; otherwise she might have mentioned how the way in which the cradles her head and plants a quick kiss on her brow might be interpreted as slightly more than just platonic. Or she might not have. We don't know. He smiles down at her peaceful features for a long moment, before sliding out of bed and tiptoeing to towards the door. His careful movements can't have been as soundless as he had hoped though, or perhaps she wasn't as deep asleep as we have been led to believe, because before he can make it to the exit, her sleepy voice pipes up: 'Doctor? What are you doing?'. There is no call for dishonesty, and the idea of lying to her doesn't even occur to him. 'I didn't mean to wake you. I was heading towards the hallway, to go to sleep in my own room'. She is still facing the wall, away from him. 'Oh', she replies, and then 'Why?'. It's a fair question, and in her sleepy state she asks it without implications of any kind, simply from curiosity. He mulls this over in his mind for a while, before realising (to his own great surprise) that he hasn't got a good answer for her. A soft smile graces his face as he takes in her form lying there, probably already gone back to sleep. 'Why indeed', he mutters to himself before removing his suit jacket and vest and shoes, tiptoeing back to the bed, and tucking them both in under the sheets. He is facing her back now, and an impulse has just struck him. An impulse he fears is rushed, risky, ever so slightly dangerous and, one could even say, borderline inappropriate; they have yet to establish where the borders of friendships will be drawn (or even on which side of this line they would like to find themselves), and he fears this impulse might be overstepping it. Yet he cannot deny it, and ever so hesitantly he raises his hand to place it where the curve from her hip meets her waist. He is suddenly so nervous about this entire endeavour that when she reaches up to take his hand, he jumps away, an apology already on his lips. But she doesn't swat him away, like he thought she would; instead the takes his hand in hers and pulls it over her waist and to her front, her back now fully against his torso. His sigh of relief matches her sigh of comfort. He is even to far wrapped up in his sudden rush of happiness and affection that he misses the loving smile which appears on her face and which doesn't go away even as sleep seizes them both.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day finds the smallest component of our duo on a sofa in the library. She is wrapped up in blankets and attempts to fathom interest in the book in her lap, the long and ominous title of which she has already forgotten. The Doctor is nowhere to be seen. Her eyes keep flickering to the door to the hallway, perhaps in search of something to alleviate her restlessness, but in vain. Her eyes pass back to the other half of the sofa, which remains stubbornly empty.

The Doctor hovers. He was supposed to leave the library half an hour ago, after tucking in his companion in every blanket he could find and ensuring her constant access to tea and biscuits, but he didn't. He was supposed to go to the engine room and check up on how the TARDIS had been doing with such an extended period of neglect on his part. Instead he lingered with her for a while, on the other seat on the sofa, holding his grounds when she questioned his claim that blankets, tea, and biscuits were in fact a universally recognized remedy for fatigue and post-traumatic stress (it isn't), both of which he claimed she obviously suffered from (she doesn't). He was a doctor, after all. She laughed at him. Their friendly banter about qualifications and motives eventually culminated in him glancing sideways at her, shuffle his feet a bit, and say 'Actually, I just want you to be safe. And happy'. Such a truthful admission surprises her, and her face must show, because his brain goes into overdrive, remembers that he really should be getting on with giving the TARDIS a proper checkup, and propels his body in the general direction of the control room so fast that he completely misses the moved smile of gratitude and affection which has crept onto Clara's face.

He has paced the hallways for quite a while, is now standing between shelves by the door, watching her. Her hands fidget, her feet shuffle, and her eyes keep looking around the room; something is clearly wrong. He is probably running a million different potential causes and treatments through his mind right now, frowning, wondering which ones would best fit the situation and whether or not she will laugh at him if he suggest they break the solitary confines of the TARDIS to visit a real doctor to get a second opinion on her wellbeing. He is taken out of his reverie by the sound of a loud sigh; she has leaned back into the armrest, placed her feet on the other seat, closed her eyes and started to massage her temples. He decides that he cannot take this anymore and begins to march determinately toward her, set on finding out what's wrong. The sound of his approaching footsteps has her eyes snap open, and she loudly exclaims 'Thank GOD you're back! I'm bored out of my _mind!_'. His determination falters and is replaced by hesitance. Boredom didn't even occur to him as a viable explanation for her behavior, but now that he thinks about it, yes, it actually fits the bill rather well. A small smile creeps onto his face. 'Bored, are you? Not too keen on…'. His eyes flash to the front page of the book in her lap. 'A History of the Appalachian Empire, Vol. 3?' Interesting choice of book, by the way'. 'I _attempted_', she says, and he notices that her voice has acquired the smallest of hints of coolness to it, 'to find something else, but your _snogbox_ seemed quite intent on me reading it. Or at least, very intent on me not reading anything else. You know, I've never seen books fly before, but I don't think they're usually supposed to hover about two inches above my hand regardless of how many boxes I find to stand on'. He knows for a fact that she only calls his ship a snogbox when she is thoroughly annoyed with it, and he gives the ceiling a questioning glance. The ship's only response is silence, but he gets the distinct impression it's the same silence a child would give when it really hopes its parents will think it was the _dog_ who broke the window while playing baseball. He shakes his head apologetically. 'Sorry about that. I really do think she is warming up to you, but apparently old habits die hard. Would you like me to read something to you?'. He could claim he offers because the TARDIS won't play tricks on him, or he could claim that he wants her to have the opportunity to close her eyes and relax more fully, but it wouldn't be true. The truth is simply that he likes to read to her. He likes to watch the quick flashes of emotion which come across her face when she has closed her eyes and only listens. He likes to watch her sink further and further into the cushions. He likes to guess when she has finally fallen asleep. She smiles: 'Yes, please'.

She shifts her feet and sits up more fully, still leaning on the armrest, so that he can sit down on the free seat. He reaches up behind them and pulls down a book at random, produces his glasses from the inner pockets of his jacket and puts them on, and starts to read. The book turns out to be a fairytale book from a small planet somewhere in the vicinity of Alpha Centauri, with stories filled with princes, princesses, dragons and magic. The stories are lovely and interesting, but if you watch Clara's face you might wonder if she hasn't stopped paying attention to it; Her gaze drifts slowly from the cover of the book, up the Doctor's arms, over his shoulders and up his neck to his face (in profile, from her perspective) where it lingers for a long time on his lips before finally moving up to his eyes. There it stays for the remainder of the current story. If the Doctor were to glance over, he would probably assume her soft expression was due to the nature of the story he was reading (A desperate cause, a mother's love, and the impending doom of the narrating lovers), and not give it another thought. He'd be wrong, though; every now and then she swallows thickly for no reason which can be attributed to the story, and her eyes stays fixed on his and are perhaps just a tad bit more watery than usual. Just a tad, mind you. When the Doctor finishes the first story, he takes a while to stare at the last page, not entirely happy with the conclusion. Clara is taken by a sudden bravery which she will later be hard pressed to explain where came from, and utilizes this break to rearrange her position on the sofa so that she is lying on her back with her head in his lap. This causes the Doctor to smile ever so slightly and raise his eyebrows, but she has already closed her eyes and requested that he keeps reading. He takes a moment to study her face, and his hand seems to move on its own accord and with absolutely no permission from his brain when it reaches up to remove a stray lock of hair and place it behind her air. His eyes return to the book in his other hand and he starts the second story, but the first hand remains by her hair and eventually starts stroking it ever so gently. If the Doctor were to look at her face now (and indeed he does) he would see a smile which they both know has absolutely nothing to do with the fairytale.

They stay on this sofa for hours, and the read-through fairytale book is soon joined by a growing pile of similar volumes. They take it in turns to read to each other, and frequently pause to discuss _this _plot twist or _that _character or tell a story from their own lives which the fiction has reminded them of. At some point the Doctor claims the right to lie down too, and they assume positions almost identical to the ones they slept so soundly in last night: Clara's back against the Doctor's front. This causes some confusion as to where the Doctor should best put his hands to be able to continue reading, and he eventually puts the arm holding the book under Clara's neck for her to use as a pillow while he can still read by looking over her head. The whole thing, which could quickly have become awkward between two people not as comfortable with each other as our dynamic duo, is instead filled with laughter and mutual yet unspoken joy at being so close to one another. The Doctor, made braver by the success of the same action last night, places the palm of his hand (the very hand which tend to operate without neural consent, yet this time is cooperating perfectly) gently at Clara's waist, and she takes it in her own yet again and pulls it to her front where her fingers carefully play with his as he continues to read to her.

This is how sleep finds them some time later, she having drifted off a few paragraphs before the end of the last story. He notices this, but continues to read out loud until the story is done. Then he carefully places the book on top of the pile at the floor, adjusts his arms so he is holding her more fully, places a gentle kiss in her hair and joins her in sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

There is a place in the universe which for centuries has been known as the ultimate place for peace and tranquillity. If you look at it, words such as 'wintery' or 'Christmas wonderland' might spring to mind, but it would be misleading; though it might resemble winter on earth, the thick layer of snow covering the planet is in fact permanent and will remain there throughout the year. The ground is covered in snow, the trees are covered in frost and the lakes are covered in ice. Currently the sun is rising, and the only sounds are from the odd squirrel or perhaps deer quietly waking up to greet the rising star. All else is silence.

Or so it would have been, had it not been for the whooshing sounds of the engines in the blue time machine currently materialising in the middle of it.

'Fielli, Clara! Eh? How about that!' The enthusiastic voice of the Doctor cuts through the eerie silence as the blue doors fly open and the man in question leaps out and immediately launches into a riveting monologue on the planet, its history, its people, and general atmospheric conditions. He is followed out by a walking bundle of clothes and blankets which we can only assume contains Clara; it would seem as even though Clara has talked the Doctor into letting her step foot outside the TARDIS doors, the Doctor has negotiated the rights to have the final say in everything to do with her well-being, even down to (apparently) condition-appropriate clothing. There is evidence to suggest he might have overdone it. The Doctor finishes his monologue with a small weather forecast (sunny with chances of snow later) and turns back to beam at Clara, only to find that the bundle of fabric has staggered sideways and promptly fallen over in the snow. He leaps to its side, crouches down and takes a few moments to dig through several layers of scarves and hats before he finds her face. She blinks a few times, taken aback by the sudden daylight, before she fixes him with a stare. 'Doctor, some of these clothes will have to go'.

Half an hour later, the Doctor and his now more reasonably clothed companion are making their way towards a small hill a few yards from the TARDIS. The view from here proves spectacular, with a long slope leading down to the valley floor where, judging by what appears to be smoke rising from chimneys on snow-covered houses, there is a small village next to a frozen lake. Clara has just made a comment about the difficulty of getting down there without sinking in the snow when the Doctor does an impressive spin and starts wading through the snow back to the TARDIS. 'I almost forgot!' he shouts over his shoulder. 'I have-'. Here he sticks his upper body inside the TARDIS doors and reaches for something, 'a sleigh!'. He emerges with the small, red, wooden sleigh, but badly miscalculates its weight; he stumbles, trips over his long, colourful scarf, and lands head-first in the snow with even less grace than Clara had managed when she was still a walking bundle of clothes and blankets. He sits up looking decidedly sheepish, and looks over to where Clara had exploded in laughter. 'Oi! You!' he says when he finally reaches her and she still hasn't recovered from merriment. 'Watch it, or I won't let you co-pilot this thing'. That sobers her up. A few clever remarks are made on the subject of the Doctor's ability to satisfactory control a simple sleigh, but she still reaches up to brush the snow from his shoulders and hair, a smile on her lips which she might have meant to seem smug but came out as decidedly affectionate. They hold eye contact for a few moments longer than necessary when she is one, the Doctor's smile mirroring her own. 'So!', he says, breaking the moment, 'Ladies first!'.

Clara sits down on the seat and scoots forwards so that the Doctor can sit behind her. He (does he seem a bit timid? I think he does) puts one arm and one leg on either side of her, careful not to sit to close. Clara decides to rectify this on the grounds that he can't see her face and therefore she can avoid questioning glances, and leans back into him. Still, when his hands come around her waist to meet hers at the front, her breath hitches. Just a little, and she hopes he didn't notice. He did. His chin appears on her shoulder, and he whispers in her ear, 'Clara?'. She leans slightly towards him so that their temples touch. 'Yeah?'. If she were to choose this exact moment to turn around, their faces would be mere inches apart. 'Ready?'. She grins. 'Yeah'. 'Geronimo…'


	4. Chapter 4

When we next encounter our intrepid travelers, they are located in an impressingly complex pile of snow and limbs and the odd piece of broken sleigh at the bottom of the hill. Clara is the first to successful disentangle herself, and goes on to attempt to remove the thick layer of snow which is currently lodged between her clothes and her skin; it's freezing cold, hence why she is hopping around in distress and swearing extensively. The two arms still in the mess of snow and sleigh behind her appears to be dislodged and flailing around on their own, but eventually they manage to locate the head which is supposed to control them; the Doctor breaks the surface, gasps for air, and immediately falls over in a giggling pile of exhaustion and adrenaline.

'Doctor!'. Clara has given up trying to remove the snow, and her voice has an unmistakable tone of accusation when she turns to look at him; it was decidedly the Doctors driving skills (or rather, lack thereof) which landed them in their current condition. The sight of Clara's pouting face does absolutely nothing to alleviate the Doctor's giggling however, and soon she gives up trying to be cross with him. Instead she laughs and lets herself fall to the ground next to him with a big smile on her lips, and they lie side by side as the giggling eventually subsides and the adrenaline leaves their bodies. 'Doctor?'. 'Yes, Clara?'. 'The stars are coming out'.

Indeed they are. Both parts of our not-quite couple are in fact so caught up in this fact that they fail to realize A) stars usually means night which means a drop in temperature, and B) they are both dangerously underdressed and covered in snow. Luckily they are about to be found by a group of people from the village out to investigate the noises (Oh yes, Clara, human settlers came here 500 years ago and no one has really come here since. Weren't you listening before? No Doctor, you had my auditory senses incapacitated by about 3 hats) who will invite them to stay with them for the time being. They will be taken to the local inn (where they are the only guests) and be offered a room, a hot meal, a bath, and free access to the main living room which has a fireplace with a roaring fire surrounded by cushions, blankets and a wonderfully dilapidated old sofa. Neither of them will mention the fact that the room they had been assigned only has one bed, and they'll eventually drift off in each other's arms (for warmth, obviously) with matching smiles on their faces.

But they won't be found by the villagers for another 8 minutes and 45 seconds, and for now they're content watching the arctic night sky appear in its entire splendor above them as they lie next to each other in the snow in this wintery landscape. The Doctor could probably have named every star in the sky, but he won't. Not this time. His gaze has instead drifted sideways until it found Clara's face, and there it lingers. We don't know what he sees there: Perhaps he is watching the starts reflected in her eyes, or maybe he is noticing every snowflake which has caught in her hair. We only know that his mouth, which has been opened since he broke the snow and gasped for air, silently shuts itself and his expression grows impossibly soft. They still haven't been found though, and eventually Clara's eyes leave the sky and meet the Doctor's. It is of course difficult to say with certainty, but I do believe the stars could have fallen down and the snow could have caught fire in this moment, and neither of them would have noticed. 'Clara…'

And this, of course, is when the villagers come and find them.

**Ok, so this is really short. I would apologize, but I'm not actually sorry :) But there will be more! Also, I'm not going to beg for reviews or anything, but this is my first fic and if there is anything in particular you would like to see more of (plot things, writing stiles, ratings) you will have to tell me because I can't read minds :) So yeah. Thanks for taking the time to read, I guess!**


	5. Chapter 5

The room they've been given isn't big, but definitely cosy. The village doesn't seem big on technology or even electricity, despite being in the future, and therefore the room is lit up by a number of candles on the window lattice (which is sizable and covered in pillows and has a good view, clearly intended for reading or what-not) and the nightstands beside the bed. There is a small en-suite bathroom with a bathtub but no hot water tap, and the jolly, fat innkeeper who showed them up had explained that the water is warmed in buckets in the main fireplace downstairs. He (there seems to be some confusion concerning his name; Clara believes he introduced himself as Bjorn, but the Doctor insists it was Baldr) also apologized profusely for the temperature; they weren't expecting guests, you see, and therefore all the rooms were freezing cold. Not wanting to cause the man unnecessary hassle (it was quite late, after all), the Doctor had assured him they they'd be alright. There is a big wardrobe stacked with clothes by one wall, and a huge, soft bed covered in furs by the other. They'll be fine.

The Doctor is currently rummaging through the wardrobe in search of nightwear, while his companion is brushing her teeth. Their conversation has gone to planning mode: what to do here, is the TARDIS safe, are _we _safe, how long should we stay. "Tell you what- " the Doctor's voice is a bit muffled because his upper body is inside the wardrobe. "How about we just stay? For as long as we can be bothered. No mission, no agenda, no deadline. That was the idea anyway, to go somewhere beautiful and safe to get out of the TARDIS for a while. That's why I decided on this planet, actually." His head pops out to beam at her reflection in the mirror which he can see though the opened door. "Though you might… like it". He dives back into the wardrobe to continue his search. Clara spits in the sink and grins. "Are you sure? You're not really famous for being patient, you know. Won't you get terrible cabin fever?". She goes to lean against the open doorway between the rooms to watch the Doctor struggle with the wardrobe which appears to have swallowed him completely. Ruffled noises vaguely recognizable as human speech comes out of it. "Sorry, what?". "I _said,_" says the Doctor, his head momentarily escaping out from the ranks of clothing, "that I'll be fine. Plenty of things to do! Skiing, ice skating, you name it. Anyway, it was _you _who were practically kicking down the TARDIS doors to go somewhere". Clara can but concede to the fact, and watches as he disappears into the wardrobe again. She shivers; the room really is very cold. "Are you finding anything in there? Because I really am very cold". No answer. She takes a few steps forward. "Hello? Doctor? Are you alri-". She suddenly leaps to the side, because the Doctor has just propelled himself out of the wardrobe and lands in a ungraceful heap on the bed, clutching two nightdresses which look distinctly Victorian. "Not to upset you or anything Clara, but I appear to have found an entrance to the mystical world of 'Narnia' in our wardrobe. There definitely was an ice queen there, and she was putting up one hell of a fight". He looks up at her only to find that her expression is frozen in shock. He chuckles. "Relax, Clara, I'm joking".

Clara retreats back into the bathroom to put on the big and slightly ridiculous-looking nightdress while the Doctor slips into his in the bedroom and dives under the sheets and furs on the bed. He just lies there for a while, staring out the window at the snow which has begun to fall. It is difficult to say what is going through his mind; his expression is ponderous yet peaceful, and he is obviously lost in deep thoughts. There is even a ghost of a smile on his lips. Someone who knows him well enough might notice how ne now seems more peaceful than he has for months, since before he found Clara and decided to solve her mystery in fact. He has let down his guard, one might say, now that he knows she's not a trap or an unnatural anomaly. And, as someone who knows him well enough would testify to, he somehow seems a fuller man now. Maybe it is that kind of thought which has him smiling quietly to himself. We will never know, because Clara chooses this exact moment to come out of the bathroom clothed in a Victorian nightdress clearly intended for someone twice her length, and the masses of fabric pooling around her feet has the Doctor out of his silent reverie and into fits of laughter in the blink of an eye. She frantically fights to find her arms in the too-long sleeves to give him a smack, but fails, and can only stand and pout in the middle of the room as the Doctor fights for breath. "You know", she says thoughtfully as the laughter eventually cools down into a gleeful grin, "You've been laughing a lot more lately than you usually do". She starts walking towards the bed, but has to stop when she is dangerously close to tripping in the impractical garment. He stops grinning. "Sorry". "Oh no, I don't mind!" she replies and slowly starts making her way over to him. "It's quite nice". She reaches the bed, but seems slightly hesitant to get in. She shivers in the cold air. "Well, get in then!" he says, lying on his side and lifting the duvet, "you must be freezing!". She shrugs, climbs in, rolls over until her front is pressed against the Doctor's, and slips her arms around his waist. "Hi" he says, hiding his surprise well as he wounds his arms around her waist as well. "I was cold" she says as means of explaining. They smile at each other, their heads sharing the same pillow.

They keep up a quiet conversation for a while longer, as has become their custom aboard the TARDIS. This time they talk mainly of this new place they have come to, and how happy they are to be here. None of them really say it, but there seems to be an underlying feeling of being happy to explore this world _together_. And when they say they are happy to be here, chances are they actually mean right here, right now. In each other's arms. After a while Clara starts to yawn involuntary yet elaborately, and the Doctor chuckles and tells her to get some sleep. She looks at him for a long moment, like she wants to say something else, but then she breathes out. "Yeah, you're right. Goodnight, Doctor. And thanks". And then she does something she has never done before: she leans up and kisses his cheek, before tucking her head under his chin to rest at his neck. The Doctor, through enormous strength of will and character, avoids going catatonic at this and mentally kicks his brain to regain control of his lips to form a question. "What for?". "oh, you know" she murmurs against the soft skin on his throat, sending tingles down his back and butterflies cascading into his stomach, "just generally".

The Doctor lies perfectly still until he is sure she is fully asleep before pulling back to look at her face. He studies her sleeping features for quite a while, but must eventually find what he is looking for because he smiles and murmurs "laugh more, indeed". Then he plants a lingering kiss on her brow and holds her tight as the winter winds howl outside.

**You know, if I feel particularly inspired I might add an actual plot to this story. Personally I'm quite happy to keep it at mindless fluff though, but the ratings might go up at least a few notches sometime in the future. Again, you'll have to let me know if there is anything in particular you want to see in it! **


	6. Chapter 6

They rays of the rising sun comes over the snow-clad hills and in through the large glass window where it finds the Doctor and Clara's sleeping forms still wrapped up in each other in the middle of the bed. Clara is the first to stir, having fallen asleep quite some time before the Doctor last night, and soon her eyes blink open. She doesn't move though. She just lies there in the Doctor's sleeping embrace, her fingers unknowingly tracing circles in his back as her eyes gradually lose their sleepy glace. She focuses on his face, illuminated by the clear, bright, sunlight of a new day, and her expression grows soft. Is it possible to caress someone just by looking at them? Well, if it is then she is caressing him. Slowly, carefully, and with great love and affection. There is soft piano music drifting up from somewhere in the building. Eventually the Doctor begins to wakes up as well, and he opens his eyes to find Clara staring back at him. He closes his eyes again and hums contently. Clara grins. "Good morning". "Good morning" he replies quietly, his voice still ruff from sleep. "Sleep well?". "Spectacular, thanks", and with that they lap back into silence. It is a good kind of silence though. A comfortable silence. Clara and her Doctor might have been happy to stay in their silent, comfortable bubble of sunlight and each other all day, but eventually the outside world demands their attention; This time it comes in the form of a soft knock on their door and a kind female voice informing them that breakfast will be ready in 10 minutes, and inquiring as to how they would like their eggs.

A few hours later our compelling comrades are leaving the inn to go explore the village. The Doctor had made another attempt at conquering the wardrobe and had emerged victoriously with two full sets of winter clothes for them both, hence why they are now much more comfortably wrapped up in coats and scarves than they were last night. The kind woman who served them breakfast (who had introduced herself as Idun, the innkeeper's wife) had chatted to them at great length about the village and its history, and even though it wasn't much to see our two intrepid travellers are still keen to have a look around. Idun had also introduced her two children to them, a shy boy of 7called Arne and a girl of 11 named Gunhild, who had been the one playing the piano. The girl seems slightly taken with Clara and had immediately volunteered the services of herself and her brother as guides for the two strangers, and she is currently leading them down the small main street while talking continuously about the houses they pass. "And there lives old Gundersen, he makes all the shoes in the village and if his wife has been baking he will sometimes give you a hot cake if you promise not tell anyone. This is the house of the Pevensies, they have five kids and Mr. Pevensie is the headmaster at school. We don't like him, but the kids are nice. This is the grocery shop. They sell fudge for 5 pence apiece, but only when Mrs. Larsen has made any because the supply train stopped working in the snows last year and no one has gotten around to fixing it yet. Here is the post office where Fred works". At this she abruptly stops and turns bright red. Clara, who has been grinning at the girl for the past 15 minutes straight, asks "Oh, who's Fred?". Gunhild mumbles something vaguely discernible as "no one". Clara raises an eyebrow at the Doctor, who grins back at her. He turns to the brother, Arne, who has been holding the Doctor's hand since they left the inn but still hasn't said a word. "Hey, Arne", he whispers conspiratorially, "Who's Fred?". "He is 15 and works at the post office!" the boy immediately pipes up. "He is tall and blond and can spit longer than anyone else we know and Gunhild's in love with him". "Am not!". "Are too!". So they go one as they wander down the street, Clara positively beaming at the having the children around and the Doctor grinning at seeing Clara so happy. It's a good day.

They head back to the inn for lunch, where they are greeted outside by the children's father; the innkeeper who welcomed them last night. He is called Karl, as it turns out, and Clara and the Doctor share a glance before quickly looking away. He had just opened his mouth to say something else when a big, fluffy snowball hits him in the face; Arne and Gunhild are running away laughing. He laughs merrily before giving them chase, and soon returns to the inn entrance with one child under each arm, both protesting wildly. He grins wildly at both Clara and the Doctor and invites them inside: lunch is almost ready.

They eat with the family in their house at the back of the inn since there are no other guests. Karl tells them about the recent difficulty they've had with transporting food around the outlying villages; the mechanical sleighs they have been using since the supply train broke down are starting to take wear, and they have no spare parts coming out from the bigger cities closer to the equator. The Doctor immediately offers to help, claiming to have vast experience in dealing with machinery, and Karl thanks him kindly and suggests that they go down to the shop together in the morning. "Are you going to leave your lovely young wife here on her own, though, Doctor? She'll be horribly bored". Neither the Doctor nor Clara corrects their assumption, because they had learnt from the children that it is highly unusual for a young man and woman to share a room and bed here without being married. There might be other reasons why none of them object as well, but we won't dwell on them for the time being. "Well, actually," Clara begins, "I'm quite good with computers and technology. Perhaps I could be of use as well?". Karl grins again and tells her that yes, they could actually really need someone to fix up on the computers in the mayor's office; they were installed by government employees nearly ten years ago and had stop working last summer, and since no one in the village knew how they worked they had just stayed dead since then. Clara promises to go down and have a look in the morning.

The Doctor and Clara spend the time between lunch and dinner making a snowman with the children in the courtyard behind the inn. They are having great fun, and both Clara and the Doctor clearly enjoy having children around. As the snowman starts to take shape the Doctor even manages to coax some more words out of shy, little Arne. Gunhild, who now admires Clara as the ultimate champion of everything female and grown-up, seems to be picking up on the small gestures of affection which are now flowing freely between the Doctor and his companion; the hand-holding, the shared glances, the way in which they will sometimes talk too quietly for the children to hear and the matching grins which always follow these conversations. Gunhild is growing more interested in the Doctor and their relationship, and starts to quiz Clara on it. How did they meet? How long had they been married? Any children? Maybe someday, though? What was the wedding like? Clara is starting to realise that they should probably agree on a back story before they go somewhere, but it's too late now and she can only improvise as best she can. The Doctor is characteristically blushing now, and Clara seems to be enjoying it just a bit too much as she fixes him with a stare and a grin and starts narrating how they had actually come from two opposing families and had to elope to a small island where they lived undercover as a shepherd and a milkmaid until their families came looking for them and they had to escape on an interstellar slave galley. They had arranged a mutiny and freed the slaves, according to Clara, and now they were also fleeing from the furious owners of the ship, hence why they were so far from civilisation. The children were a great audience, gasping and aaahing at exactly the right times. Clara continues to elaborate on their adventures of fleeing the slave traders, and her stories eventually become mostly true as she tells them of everything she and the Doctor have been doing across time and space, keeping a straight face as she places the carrot nose in their snowman's face. She has vague memories of doing something similar with children in Victorian London, actually. The Doctor could probably happily have been watching her and the children all day, but Karl has just come out of the inn and the Doctor drifts over to discuss the sleights with him as they walk down the main street.

About half an hour later the Doctor heads back to check on Clara, the sun has just set behind the hill where he landed the TARDIS and it is quickly getting darker. When he enters the courtyard though, he is greeted by a seemingly violent mayhem which has him drawing his sonic and into oncoming storm mode in a millisecond; there are screams and voices raised in agony, snow flying everywhere, tens of children running around and no sign of Clara. He runs right into the middle of it all and only stops when he is hit square in the face by a flying ball of snow, adding severely to his confusion. But when he hears Gunhild voice, thick with laughter, crying "It's the Doctor! Get him!", he finally understands: it's not a crisis or war broken out, it's a simple, old fashion snowball fight. His face breaks out in a goofy grin just as the second snowball hits him in the teeth, and he exclaims "Right! I'll join whichever team is set on taking down Gunhild and her reign of terror!". The boys of the village immediately run to the Doctor's cause while the girls rally to Gunhild, and the fight continues.

The Doctor eventually finds Clara, mostly covered in snow, in the very centre of the chaos. Her big grin of childish delight mirrors his own, and they share a moment of just eyes meeting eyes and heaving for breaths. It is, regrettably, quite short lived because the children appear to have joined forces to take down our two time travellers, and they are soon circled by all the children who are eying them as hyenas would eye a gazelle with a broken foot and arthritis. The Doctor and Clara are now back to back, and the Doctor whispers over his shoulder, "you know, I have stared down a fair few of daleks in my time but none of them were as scary as this". Clara grins. "Brave heart, Doctor. Is the Oncoming Storm really afraid of some children?". "Children, armed with snow and a common purpose? Give me an angry Dalek any day". And then the kids charge at them, and whatever Clara was going to reply is drowned in laughter and the cries of victorious children as our intrepid duo is pinned to the ground and drowned in snow.

Later, after the children have gone home, Arne and Gunhild have gone to bed, and Clara has gone to have a bath to try and warm up, the Doctor is sitting on his own in the sitting room on the ground floor of the inn. It is a big room with a rich carpet and a variety of sofas and sitting groups. The best sofa is in front of the fireplace though, and the fire which is the only light in the room has now burned down to embers. It is by this sofa the Doctor is now sitting, on a cushion on the floor, resting his back against the couch. He is tired but happy, and he is smiling to himself as he watches the embers. He has taken off his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. The door behind him opens and softly closes again, and quiet footsteps are moving towards him. He doesn't turn around, though; he knows those footsteps and sure enough, Clara is soon lowering herself down to sit beside him on the cushion. She is wearing a dressing gown, and her hair is still damp from her bath. Her arm is touching his, her leg is touching his, and she leans slightly into him as she sits down and hugs her knees. He leans back into her. They sit like this for a while. Clara turns her head to look at him. "Good day today". He slowly looks back at her, and smiles. "Yeah. Yeah, it was". She smiles back, and they both go quiet as they look at each other. Their heads are now quite close. The embers glow. Eventually the Doctor breaks the silence. "Thank you, Clara". She is somewhat surprised. "Thank _me_? I'm not the one with the time machine, you know". Their faces are only inches apart now. "I know", he whispers. "Thank you anyway". She is looking at his lips now. His smile widens. She looks back up to his eyes, and he seems ever so slightly breathless. They both lean forward the last remaining centimetres, and, soft as two moths colliding under moonlight, their lips meet. The kiss is long, sweet, and neither of them wants to break it. Her lips are soft on his hard ones. It is impossible to tell how long it lasts; it could have been seconds, hours or a life time, and they only know each other. She is still hugging her knees and his hands are folded in his lap. A stray of her hair has fallen out from behind her ear, still wet from the bath, and softly lands on his cheek. Their foreheads meet as the kiss eventually comes to an end, and they both exhale shakily as their eyes open and find each other. He smiles, and she grins back.


	7. Chapter 7

When Clara wakes up the next morning, her eyes remain blissfully closed for a while longer. We can only hypothesise what goes through her mind, but my money is on the theory that her brain takes a bit longer to work out why today feels so very, very different from yesterday. In her sleepy state she might not yet have puzzled together how the arms holding her feels slightly different or why the butterflies awakening in her stomach seems practically giddy with excitement. Fascinating enough though, you can pinpoint the exact moment she remembers: Her eyes fly open to find another face grinning a few inches away from hers on the pillow, a face belonging to the man who is unarguably responsible for her sudden state of excitement and nervousness. The Doctor's smile widens as he notices how she suddenly is wide awake, probably because he has made an accurate guess at the reason for it. "Hi". She visibly relaxes at the easiness of his greeting, and is only slightly breathless when she replies. "Hi". Her face splits into a grin even wider than his, and she tilts her head slightly to see him better. "Sleep well?" "Exquisite, thank you". Neither of them has more to say really, so they laps back into silence as they continue to grin at each other like the idiots they are. Clara eventually breaks the grin as a yawn escapes her, and she stretches in his arms in an attempt to shake off her sleepiness. This brings her closer to his face than previously, and she utilises this to land a lingering kiss on his lips. His breath catches slightly at her boldness, but once he has wasted a few seconds with mentally flailing around he replies in kind; one of his hands comes up to cradle her head as his other arm circles her waist more fully. Clara is just about to lose herself in his embrace completely when he suddenly pulls away. She immediately opens her eyes to look at him, an expression of worry on her face. She is probably afraid she has done something wrong and he will leave and everything will be ruined, but he reassures her with a small smile as he holds up his hand in front of her, three fingers raised. He lowers one. Then another. Then he angels his last finger to point at the door to their small room and sure enough, as his visual countdown would have reached zero, there is a soft knocking and Idun's voice informing them that breakfast is ready. He grins at Clara, who is smiling and rolling her eyes, and plants a quick kiss on her forehead before he leaps out of their bed to face another day.

An hour later, when breakfast has been duly consumed, our two time travellers are standing outside the inn waiting for Karl and the mayor. The Doctor has rummaged more deeply in the wardrobe this time, and therefore Clara is wearing a dress which is halfway between modern and Victorian, and snug and warm. The Doctor on the other hand refused to exchange his purple tweed for the suits the men appear to be wearing here, on the grounds that they really aren't that different from his normal get-up. Karl has promised to take the Doctor to the snowmobile repair shop to let him have a look, and he also promised to have a chat with his friend the mayor about letting Clara have a look at their computers. Clara and the Doctor aren't really talking much as they wait; the Doctor has grown a lot more fidgety since this morning, and Clara is shifting her weight from foot to foot as she looks down the street. Occasionally the Doctor will reach out his hand in the general direction of Clara's hand or waist, but he appears to always change his mind halfway and instead reach up to straighten his bowtie or whatnot. Clara is playing with the various rings on her fingers. We don't know why they are acting in such a way; maybe they're having second thoughts about this whole situation, or someone has made a comment over the breakfast table to make them both feel slightly awkward. If you ask me though, I'd say that they both simply want to reach out for the other but are unsure if they are allowed to, time period and shifting boundaries considered. All they've done is kiss after all, and in the presence of only each other. You could accuse them of being shy as teenagers in love, and you'd be completely right. Eventually though, Clara looks up at the Doctor and reaches for his hand timidly. He smiles down at her as they move closer to each other, and has just opened his mouth to say something when Karl rounds the corner and they quickly step away from each other again. Karl is accompanied by a tall man in his late thirties, who introduces himself as Mayor Einar Scott. He grins widely at Clara and confesses his relief at having someone with technical skills finally arrive in the village; apparently the computing network has been in an even worse state than Karl had thought, and for quite some time too. Karl and Einar move to go in opposite direction from the inn, and Clara and the Doctor are suddenly at a bit of a loss for words: it is the first time since Trenzalore that they will be separated, if only for a few hours, and also the first time since the very recent development in their relationship. They just stare at each other for a few moments and in the end the Doctor leans down to kiss her forehead, a solution which obviously neither of them is entirely content with. As the Doctor spins around to follow Karl down the street, he casts a glance behind to watch Clara catch up with Einar and walk beside him. The Doctor's expression is unreadable.

Hours pass and the snow has begun to fall again before we see either of them re-emerge back onto the street: The mechanics in the repair shop has gone home for lunch, and the Doctor has apparently decided to have a small break as well. His shirt is rolled up to the elbows and he has smudges of oil all over his forearms. The mechanics in the shop were all duly impressed with his skills: they have been working overtime the last few weeks to sort everything out, so a pair of extra hands which thoroughly know their stuff is very welcome indeed. A few of them even invited him home to have lunch with their various families, but he politely declined. Now he is wandering slowly down the main street from the shop with no apparent destination in mind, a ponderous look upon his face. He stops when he comes to a small square to watch the busy life of the villagers walking past him, all dressed up in winter clothing and greeting each other with merriment and joy as they walk home for lunch. The Doctor is so deep is though that he doesn't recognise the sound of the footsteps walking up behind him, and is only brought out of the confines of his own mind when arms he immediately recognizes slip around his waist and hugs him from behind as their owner presses herself against his back. He smiles as he leans back to rest his neck against Clara's forehead. "Hello" he greets her softly, and is answered with happy mumbling from where her mouth is hidden in the back of his coat. He chuckles and turns around to face her, her arms still about his waist, and places his own arms around her shoulders as he hugs her close. "How was your day?". "Dull as a brick. The computing equipment they have would be outdated even back home, and it is practically falling apart. Einar showed me where to find spare parts though, so I think I can pretty much sort it out by the end of the day. How are the snowmobiles?". She breaks away slightly to look up at him as he sighs. "Worse than I thought. They are being used too much and maintained too little, and every single one of them is in need of a good fix. It will take several days, even with my phenomenal skill and experience". At the last part he raises his eyebrow at her, and she giggles. "Good thing you're so humble Doctor, otherwise the blokes might start taking offence. How long is your lunch break?". "Until the bells ring, apparently. It would seem everyone in the village is operating on the same schedule. See how everyone has gone inside?". Indeed, the streets around them are almost deserted now, only a few stragglers hurrying along to make it home for a meal. "Are you hungry?" "Not really. Fancy a walk?" "I'd love to".

As they walk around the village and down to the lake, the conversation flows freely between them. The Doctor goes on an enthusiastic monologue about the history and practical upshots of having a communal lunch break, and Clara laughs at him, occasionally brushing the falling snow from her hair. When they get to the long ice-covered slope which is supposed to be the walkway down to the frozen lake he offers her his arm for support, and she only hesitates slightly before taking hold of his elbow. Her hesitation proves to be the more intelligent intuition though, because they only walk a few yards before the Doctor's sense of balance betrays him and he attempts a ludicrous pirouette to avoid falling flat on his behind. Maybe it would have worked under normal circumstances, but with a Clara who is wearing a lovely albeit impractical dress holding on to his arm for dear life the whole endeavour quickly turns catastrophic and they glide down the slope in a tangle of arms and legs and shouts and winter clothing. They are cushioned by soft dunes of snow when they reach the bottom though, and Clara finds herself lying flat across her Doctor's chest when they eventually come to a stop. They are staring wide-eyed at each other for a few moments before they simultaneously burst into laughter. In a few minutes they are laughing so hard that they have trouble breathing, and Clara rolls of him to lie on her back in the snow next to him as the laughter eventually subsides into giggles and goofy smiles. They both turn their heads to look at each other, and Clara erupts in giggles once more as the Doctor rolls over to support himself above her on one elbow, and leans down to place a quick peck on her cheek. Then he rolls off, stands up and adjusts his bowtie in a vague attempt at regaining a little dignity. She giggles again as he reaches down for her arms to pull her up. He offers her his arm yet again, and together they continue on the path which eventually leads them back into the village.

When they get back to the square they slow down, because they don't really know where to go from here. They were just discussing how long the a lunch break typically lasts when Clara steps on a bit of ice concealed by the new snow and loses her footing; she had let go of the Doctor's arm for a brief moment to lift her skirts, but in a split second she has lost her balance and will soon be having a painful meeting with the ground. Luckily the Doctor notices and, given the bodily control which he can only muster when those he loves are in danger, manages to snatch her back to him by a powerful grip around her waist. For anyone passing by it might just appear like the Doctor suddenly decided to embrace her, because he is now holding her very close with both arms and their eyes have locked. She puts up a cheeky grin. "Looking for excuses to grab me, are we?". He puts up a very unconvincing expression of being insulted. "Well, if I were to stop grabbing you every time you fall to the ground, you'd spend more time there than standing up. But I can always stop, if you want". He still hasn't let her go, though. Her expression softens, done with the playful banter. "No, please don't". He is surprised by her sudden serenity, and takes a few moments before responding. "Don't worry," he says, smiling slightly and leaning his head down so their foreheads meet, "I won't". She smiles back. They stand like this for a moment before the Doctor moves his hands to her cheeks and tenderly holds her head. Clara's breath hitches slightly, and she feels the now familiar cascade of butterflies fall into her stomach when their lips softly meet. Her hands move under his coat to circle his waist, and she clings to him like her life depends on it. In the distance a bell begins to chime; of course, this would be when the lunch break is over. The kiss breaks. "I really should go" he says softly. "yeah, me too". Still they aren't turning away though, and they grin as their lips meet again. There are people pouring into the streets from the surrounding houses now, and the Doctor and Clara break away again. "Really. Really, we should go" "yeah, definitely". Another kiss. He grins and she giggles. Another kiss. "Ok, I definitely have to go now" Clara says and breaks away. "I'm meeting the mayor after all, can't afford to be late". The Doctor is left there, pouting slightly as she turns and starts walking away, grinning at him over her shoulder. He eventually recovers, though. "I'll see you tonight!" He calls after her, slightly louder than strictly speaking necessary. She turns to stare incredulously at him, along with a fair few passer-by's. He realises, too late, that it might have sounded more suggestive than he had originally intended. "No, I-" he tries to recover, both hands coming up to gesticulate, "I-, Oh-, Shut up!" He spins around and hurries down the street towards the repair shop, but not fast enough to escape her laughter.

That evening they dine with Karl and his family again. The children are debating whether the promise of dessert really is worth eating their vegetables as the adults discuss today's events; the boys at the repair shop are apparently doing double time with the Doctor's help, and Karl is very pleased. Clara is just telling him how she has mainly sorted out the computers at the mayor's office, and, she adds with a sideways glance at the Doctor, Einar the Mayor had asked if she wouldn't mind coming with him to one of the other villages further up in the mountains tomorrow to help them out with their equipment too. Karl says he knows which village she means, and merrily announces that she'd be back before nightfall if they leave early. Clara hasn't actually mentioned whether she has agreed to do any of this, but when Karl smiles happily at them both and pronounces them to be 'God-sent helpers in our time of need', she doesn't have the heart to tell him so.

Later still, when Clara and the Doctor have retired to their room and are getting ready for bed, they talk it over. Neither of them is entirely happy with the idea though, and they are mainly trying to reassure each other. "I'm sure you'll be fine", the Doctor says as he slips the ridiculous nightdress over his head. "And they can clearly do with the help, poor souls". "Yeah, I know". Clara's voice from the bathroom is a bit muffled by something, probably a toothbrush. "I would have thought that in the future people would at least have 24 hour access to electricity, but apparently not. And in this weather, too". The snow which was falling peacefully earlier in the day has now turned into an outpour. The Doctor eyes it nervously as he gets into bed. "This far out in the wilderness? I'm not surprised. I'm impressed they can even rely on technology and machinery at all, to be honest. All the more reason for us to help them sort it out". "Yeah". Clara emerges from the bathroom dressed in the same nightdress as the previous nights, the vast surplus of material held up in one of her hands. They are getting pretty good with the routines, to be honest. The Doctor holds up the furs and sheets for her to climb into bed. They lie down facing each other, but not quite touching. The Doctor is looking at Clara; Clara is looking over his shoulder and frowning at the falling masses of snow outside the window. He sighs. "I wish you didn't have to go". She looks at him, then, with a small smile adorning her face. "Yeah. Me too. I'll be back before you know it, though".


	8. Chapter 8

The first thing the Doctor does the next morning is to frown. He has had a bad dream. Not a nightmare, exactly, just a bad dream where things didn't go as they should and people got separated. When he realizes that he is in their nice, warm bed in their nice, cozy room though, the frown disappears and is replaced with a smile as a he turns around and reaches for Clara's sleeping body next to him. It's not there. The very idea that he is alone in their bed is so unusual to him that he spends a few moments in utter confusion before his fingers lock around a sheet of paper lying on the pillow where her head normally would be resting. It's written in a handwriting he immediately recognizes, and it reads:

"Good morning, Doctor. Einar came to pick me up earlier than I thought, and I didn't want to wake you. Don't worry about me like you always do though, I'll be fine! I'll see tonight.

– your Clara

His expression is slightly morose when he turns around again to look out the window where the snow is still falling heavily, the big bed now feeling colder and less welcoming than before. He gets out and gets dressed and is for the first time ready to go when Idun comes knocking, the frown now back on his face.

That day the Doctor submerges himself in work at the repair shop. He has started to teach the other workers better and more effective methods of repair, and by lunchtime the snowmobiles are almost flying though the shop. He doesn't take a lunch break like the rest of them do, instead using the time to invent a few tools which will help with repairs in the future. When the lunch break is over and the lads are returning he has started to tinker on one of the snow mobiles to optimise speed and safety. Karl jokes that they should really send his 'wife' away more often if this is the kind of result they get, and the Doctor laughs with him. He has a point, after all.

The Doctor stays at the shop for the rest of the afternoon, working, talking and joking with the mechanics. They really are a top bunch of people; hard-working and friendly. When the bell chimes again signalling the end of the day though, he is out of there in a swirl of oil and purple tweed heading for the inn. He bursts though the door with a big grin to find Idun preparing supper and the children doing their homework at the dinner table. "Is… eh…" Idun looks up from the stove with a sympathetic look on her face. "Sorry love, they're not back yet. Been delayed by the snows, I should imagine. Why don't you sit down, and I'll get you something to nibble on". The Doctor's expression has reverberated back into a lost puppy with just a sprinkle of genuine worry as he sits down next to Arne by the table. Gunhild looks up at him. "Are you worried about her?". He sighs and smiles at the child. "I'm always worried about her". The Doctor peeks over Arne's shoulder. "What are you two working on, then?" "Arne is doing math, and I'm writing an essay on the first human settlement on Neptune like a million years ago". The prospect of helping the children with their homework soon has the Doctor out of his melancholy state, and he spends the next hour happily teaching Arne easier ways to do his equations and arguing with Gunhild's history book which, as he claims to the children's great amusement, must have been written by "illiterate, presumptuous, pretentious apes who clearly weren't there at the time". When Gunhild finishes up and goes to help her mother set the table and there is still no sign of Clara though, his expression falters back into worry. Arne notices, and inquires "Still worried about her, eh?". The Doctor looks at him and nods. "These girls", he says, as he shakes his head with more dignity and knowledge than any seven year old can rightfully have, making the Doctor chuckle, "They'll be the death of us".

After dinner the Doctor is getting increasingly uneasy. He has talked to Karl, who echoed Idun's assumption that they had been delayed by the snow, but as he walks in circles in the sitting room his mind is starting to conjure up images he wold rather be without; sleighs and snowmobiles breaking down in the freezing cold, dangerous animals attacking the convoy, unforeseen riots in the village they were visiting, Einar turning out to be a not-to-be-trusted _slime ball _who might take advantage of the situation… He shudders. He seriously considers taking a snowmobile to go out to look for them, but luckily Arne and Gunhild poke their heads into the sitting room to say goodnight on their way to bed and talk him out of it; he would get lost, he would freeze to death, and he would be of absolutely no help whatsoever. Not to mention, as Gunhild points out (and this is the point which actually wins him over), Clara would probably go looking for him when they get back, also get lost, and also freeze to death. They reassure him again that she'll definitely be back before long and trot off to bed, leaving the Doctor to stare gloomily into the fire.

He doesn't move from his brooding position as the evening slowly passes and becomes night, still with no sign of Clara. He can hear the sound of Karl locking the door and going to bed, but he still doesn't move a muscle. His expression is a mix of anxiousness and confusion, because he can't really justify his strange behaviour even to himself. She is obviously capable of taking care of herself and staying up worrying about it won't do anyone any good, so, rationally speaking, he should go to bed. When did he stop being rational? He only looks up when Gunhild sneaks back into the room and asks accusingly "Are you _still _here?" "Shouldn't _you_ be in bed?" he counters equally accusingly, but with a crooked smile and she shrugs and sits down at the other end of the sofa. "Couldn't sleep. Do you want to talk?" "About what?" "I don't know. Aren't people supposed to want to talk when they're sad because of love or something? I remember when my mate Karin and John from school…" and she launches into another one of her stories, giving the Doctor a unique insight into the inner workings of the social life in the fourth grade of the village primary school. The Doctor chuckles and lets her carry him away with her enthusiasm, a temporary yet welcome distraction from his anxiousness. Eventually her gripping tale of young love and the power of malicious rumour comes to an end though, and she fixes him with a stare. "Well? Is it like that?". He makes a point of looking thoughtful for a moment. "Not really, no". "Well, I don't know. I'm only eleven. What's it like, then?". The Doctor looks at her for exactly 3,7 seconds. Then he turns back to look at the fires. "Well, you see, the thing is…" And he tells her. Slightly modified, of course, so as to not divulge their secret of interstellar time travel and also to make the whole thing comprehensible to an eleven year old, but he tells her. He tells her of friendship which grew to love, and how lonely he was before meeting Clara. He tells her of how incredibly happy he is now that he has her, and also of the crippling fear of losing her again. He even tells her how, due to recent complications, she has come to know him better than anyone else ever has. She has made his entire life so much less lonely, and he has been so lonely for so long that now he doesn't quite know how to cope.

He is staring into the fire as he talks, speaking as much to himself as he is speaking to the child. "I don't quite understand why I'm so off from being on my own. Being on my own is what I do, it's what I've always done. I just... I really wish she was here. With me. I'm always much better when she is here". He finally runs out of words and stares into the fire for a few more moments as the extent of what he has just said washes over him. Then he glances over at Gunhild; she has fallen asleep, her head leaning on the armrest. The Doctor smiles fondly at her for a few moments before getting up and carrying her back to bed. Afterwards he walks back up to his own room, gets his nightdress and falls asleep instantly.

Some time later the peace of the room is disturbed by the door softly opening and closing again and the flickering of candlelight against the dark walls. The Doctor must be sleeping soundly because he doesn't even stir when Clara accidentally pushes over a vase in the bathroom and swears softly. Clara is obviously both tired and cold, because she shivers and only strips down to her t-shirt and knickers before blowing out her candle and climbing into bed, not caring about her ridiculous nightdress. The Doctor is lying on his side facing away from her and for a while she just lies there and looks at him, a soft expression of adoration and longing on her face. Then she shivers from cold again and scoots closer to hug him around the waist and spoon him from behind, hoping to steal some warmth. The sudden coolness on his back makes the Doctor stir and he turns in her arms to embrace her and hopefully warm her up a bit; their legs entangle, and he gives a muffled outcry at her freezing cold legs against his naked skin. He grins at her though, and her eyes glitter with mirth. But when his smile fades and her eyes adjust to the darkness, she begins to see how much this day has taken out of him: she can see all the pain and worry he has been though. Her expression grows quiet and she reaches up a cold hand to smooth the wrinkles the anxiousness has brought to his eyes. Her fingers follow his hairline down to his jaw, soft and reassuring. Her eyes have followed the movement of her hand, but now she looks up to meet is gaze again. There are many emotions currently fighting for dominance in his eyes; worry, longing, joy and wistfulness, just to mention some of them. However, the one which wins in the end is an emotion so strong that it leaves Clara speechless: Love. Pure, unabashed love. She blinks rapidly in an attempt at washing away the sudden moisture in her eyes as his hand comes up to cradle her cheek. And when she leans up as he leans down and their lips meet in the middle, the both know that this kiss means a lot more than any of the previous ones ever did.

The kisses which they have so far shared, though few in numbers, have all shared certain characteristics: They have been soft, they have been sweet, and they have been interrupted one way or another. And that's how this kiss starts out too; tender and lingering and not intended to last. Only this time there is no one coming to interrupt them. This time, nature takes over. This time, the kiss deepens.

We don't know who, but it was probably both. We don't know why, but maybe the separation and the worry and the sheer joy at being reunited is getting the better of them. We only know that Clara's hands are reaching for his neck to pull herself almost painfully close, and the Doctor's arms are around her waist holder her as tight as he can. There is an electric pulse, and urgency to their movements, which hasn't been there before. Clara's leg has found its way over the Doctor's and soon she is pushing him into the pillows by his shoulders as she sits up and straddles his hips, lips never leaving his. She reaches down to remove his hands from her hips and pins them to the pillow on either side of his head as she, tiny, fragile, _beautiful_ Clara leans over him completely and pushes him back into the mattress as they kiss. The Doctor might be temporarily awestruck at the fierceness of her attack, but as her hair falls out from behind her ear and land on his face he begins to reciprocate: he suddenly sits up, lips still locked with hers, so that Clara, who was straddling him, is now sitting in his lap with her legs wrapped around his waist. His arms come up to hold her, one wrapped around the small of her back where her t-shirt has ridden up and the other coming up behind her back to hold the back of her head. She wraps her arms impossibly tight around his neck, like she fully intends to push him into her very soul.

When the kiss eventually breaks due to lack of oxygen, their breath is rugged and shaky as their foreheads meet. Their eyes are closed as they hold each other, each trying to regain control of their own bodies. Clara is the first to open her eyes, and her face splits into a wide grin of pure joy of being alive and being together as she laughs and hugs him around the neck, grinning over his shoulder. He takes a bit longer, but he eventually starts chuckling as well; soon he is full-on laughing, and he lets go of his grip around her body to spread his arms out as he falls back into the sheets. She follows him down, still grinning, and slides of his lap to lie down by his side, body touching his all the way down, head resting on his shoulder as her hand comes up to play with the fabric on his chest. He reaches up to place his hand over hers, his other arm reaching around her shoulder as he turns and plants a kiss on her forehead. "Missed me?" she asks, her grin evident in her voice. He sighs and looks down to meet her eyes, a tired but happy smile playing on his lips. "You have no idea".

They lie there together in the darkness for a while, talking quietly. Clara tells him of the excursion; apparently the reason all the villages have been suffering computer troubles is because of a fault on the line connecting them to the nearest city, a fault which is located up in the mountains where practically no one lives, and so their trip to the village today had been completely fruitless. There are a few mountain cabins up by the fault though, and Einar was going to try to arrange transport up there as soon as he could. The Doctor's face visibly falls when he realises that she is going back out; he was obviously hoping he would have her back for good. He looks so down that she doesn't even have the heart to laugh at him; instead she raises her hand to softly stroke the skin on his jaw and smiles gently when she makes her next proposition. "Come with me?". His eyebrows shoot up. "I mean, it only makes sense. The technology will need extensive repair work, probably more than I can effectively do alone. You are definitely just as capable as I am. I could do with an assistant". By the end she is grinning widely, matching him. He takes her hand in his again and kisses it. "I'd love to. Thanks". They smile at each other. She reaches up to kiss him gently on the lips before tucking her head under his chin to rest as his neck. And they stay like that until they both drift off as the winter winds howl outside.

**Ok, so here's the deal: I've been simply making this all up as I go along, but I'm now tempted to stop writing this story and start writing something with an actual thought-through plotline instead. I've still got some thoughts down on where I want this story to go though. So, basically: If you want me to keep writing this story, leave a review and tell me so. If you do, I will keep writing it! If none of you do, I will stop writing it and start writing something else. Cool! **


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